


Expiation

by the_tenth_muse1



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_tenth_muse1/pseuds/the_tenth_muse1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission gone wrong, James goes to work off his restlessness and finds Q seeking only something he can give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

James refused to acknowledge the dissatisfaction that twisted his stomach when he looked into Q's office and found it empty. The mission had been a complete cock up from the moment James had landed in Greece. The local contact had turned out to be a double agent and led James straight into a trap. His gun had been taken and while it hadn't worked for them, it certainly hadn't done him any good being cuffed to a chair.

He'd literally fought his way out of the high rise with his bare hands and then stolen a motorcycle and driven through Athens on one of the crazier chases of his life. Not the craziest, but it was certainly in the top ten. And all the while, his comms had gone in and out because of the water thrown over him to bring him out of unconsciousness after the initial beting. He'd only heard Q's voice directing him about once a minute, which had done him about as much good as his missing gun.

James sighed and thought, _I miss my gun._

He needed to hear Q's clipped, posh tones tearing into someone on James' behalf as he always did when James came too close to dying.

_Not tonight, apparently,_ he thought with an internal sigh. Disappointment raced through him even as James mentally pushed it away. Q was his own man and they didn't even really interact outside of the office and missions.

James walked back to the elevators and then out of MI6 altogether a short time later. Restless, he sat in his car for a few minutes before driving fast and reckless through the evening traffic to a club that caters to an exclusive set. One had to be invited in order to belong and James had become a member well over ten years ago. He didn't visit often despite the inordinate amount of the yearly membership fee.

The valet openned the door for him and James nodded at him before walking into the club. On the outside, it fit in completely with the other dance clubs of London: a queue of gorgeous people down the block, loud music, roving lights, and exclusivity. That was just for the front of house, as it were.

James ignored the line and the women trying to catch his gaze as he walked up to the door and inside with a simple nod at the bouncer. Dressed in a gray suit and pale blue shirt, James knew he looked good enough to pick up any man or woman waiting to get in. They were children, however, and James wanted nothing to do with any of them.

He walked through the loud dance portion of the club to the back where another pair of security waited. James didn't even need to hold up a membership card – not that one existed for this club – as one opened the door for him. He walked into a much quieter hallway and down a short distance to another door. This one opened into the club area to which he belonged and he let out a slow sigh of relief upon entry.

This main room was also for dancing, but a quiet jazz quintet played from the corner and couples moved gently on the dance floor, wrapped up in one another. Tables circled the wooden dance area and a bar lined one wall. Another corridor branched off from the main area and an excellent kitchen rested between the two vastly different clubs.

“James! How lovely to see you after so long.”

James looked over at Gregory's approach and smiled warmly. The club's owner was getting older – as they all were – but still held that air of refined gentility with which one could only be born. His hair was nearly all white now, neatly cut, and his dapper suit fit well, even now. They shook hands and James said, “You're looking well, Gregory. How is Matthew?”

Gregory beamed at him and said, “Oh quite well, thank you. And Matthew is home with the flu, sadly. The poor thing's been absolutely wretched for a week. Wouldn't listen to me about getting a flu shot but he gets to listen to my 'I told you so's,' which works out just fine for me.”

James chuckled at the older man's somewhat gleeful tone. “Give him my best.”

“Of course. Come. Let's sit.”

They did and a waiter brought over James' customary martini, shaken, not stirred. The expensive liquor felt like nirvana, relaxing him further still as they sat together and Gregory filled him in on the latest break-ups and make-ups. He ate a delicious meal to soak up the alcohol; not that a single martini was anywhere near enough to incapacitate him these days.

Finally, Gregory asked, “Are you just here to relax tonight, or looking for something with a bit more... vigor?”

That restless, fidgety sensation lingered in his gut and James replied, “Definitely more vigorous. It's been a rather difficult week at work.”

“Ah. Well, I have just the thing to work off all that stress,” Gregory said with a wink. “A relatively new member. He is just exquisite, angelic even. Young, but not so much that you'll feel like an old letch, unlike myself.”

James chuckled, knowing that Gregory only had eyes for his partner, Matthew. The two had been together nigh on fifteen years.

Gregory hesitated and then said, “He's only looking for discipline and I know you generally like to take things to a sexual conclusion. Those delightful Catholic boys and their guilt. It practically drives them into my club.”

James thought for a moment and asked, “What sort of discipline?”

“So far, it's been the crop and whip. No blood, of course.”

“Of course.”

“What do you think? Interested?”

James nodded slowly. “I believe I am. May I see him?”

Gregory stood. “Indeed. Let's.”

They skirted the dance floor and walked down the hallway. On either side of the hall were private rooms. Some held viewing rooms, some didn't. All held beds, an assortment of pristine sex toys, and all the accoutrements for safe, sane, and consensual BDSM sex. James had been in such control of himself for so long that any other form of sex simply didn't appeal. He needed to make others come apart and lost himself in their pleasure and pain, gifting them with perfect control at all times.

Gregory stepped into a viewing room and James followed. A large two-way mirror took up a good portion of the wall. A few comfortable chairs sat in the corner. James stepped up to the glass and felt his heart skip a beat at the sight in the other room. He swallowed against a suddenly dry throat and rasped, “What does he want? What's he looking for?”

“Discipline, as I said. He called a couple of hours ago desperate to expiate what he called, 'a tremendous failure,' at work. He said he'd let down someone important and gotten them hurt. He doesn't come often, but it's almost always because of his job.”

James could well believe it. Q was so young to the job that his inevitable failures would be taken to heart no matter if every one of them was beyond his control. That he'd somehow been invited into Gregory's club made James frown a bit. “Who vouched for him?”

Gregory half-smiled at him, blue eyes twinkling as he said, “Matthew. They've known one another a few years. He'd mentioned young Ryan to me in passing, that he was sure the lad was submissive and wouldn't acknowledge it. One of the new breed of men who believe they can do and be whatever they will themselves to be regardless of their nature. Of course, he's a very strong-willed young man – I saw that the moment we were introduced – but he is so lovely in his submission.”

James burned to know everything, but limited himself to only a couple of general questions. “Was he experienced when you met? What is his experience now?”

“He's bisexual and submissive, but his relationships in the past have been with women. His work keeps him firmly single and he passed his physical with flying colours. He is not currently sexually active and does not even indulge here. Ryan told me that he's got trust issues and so has never really explored dominance and submission in any of his relationships. Pain, however, he's played with in the past with lovers. I suspect that he finds women comforting and a source of security. Mother issues, you know.”

Considering what he'd gleaned of Q's relationship with M, James did indeed know. Thoughtful, James gazed on the beautiful sight of Q strapped to a St. Andrew's cross, wrists and ankles bound with lined, leather cuffs. He was nude and his pale skin utterly unblemished. James' gaze lingered on his arse for several long moments, his cock stirring with honest desire for the first time in far too long.

“I see he meets with your approval. I rather thought he would.”

James glanced back at Gregory and smiled briefly. “You know me very well.”

Gregory smiled in return and asked, “Can you keep to his boundaries?”

“Of no sex and no breaking the skin? Absolutely. How does he feel about blindfolds?”

“It's never come up. Shall I ask?”

“No, that's fine. I'll ask. One thing, Gregory.”

Gregory straightened in response to James' serious tone. “Yes?”

James tore his gaze from Q and met looked at the older man. With utter seriousness, he said, “No one is to watch us. There will be no recordings, audio or video.”

“James, safety requires...”

“Those are my terms. If you cannot meet them, neither of us will return.”

Gregory's lips pursed as he took in the words. “You know him.”

“I do. And I'm certain that if you look for his past recordings, you will find they no longer exist. He's very thorough that way. In all ways, really.”

“I see. Well. Come along, James. Let's see what young Ryan thinks about being left completely in your care for the night.”

James bit back a smile at the somewhat peevish tone. Just because Gregory was faithful to Matthew didn't mean he didn't enjoy watching. He followed Gregory out of the viewing room and then into the room where Q awaited him.

Q couldn't see who entered, but he didn't stiffen or even try to look. James almost nodded in approval; it meant the young man knew and trusted Gregory.

Gregory walked over to him and said, “You look much too comfortable, young man. I have someone here that would appreciate making you far less so. And in fact, he says that you know one another. James?”

Q did stiffen at James' name, although that wasn't a surprise. James walked around the cross and into Q's line of sight. Q swallowed visibly and cleared his throat. “Good evening, James. I... didn't think to run into you here.”

James half-smiled and said, “No, I expect you didn't. Gregory has explained your rules to me and I gave him two additional ones. Firstly, not to bother recording as I'm sure you've already destroyed them. Yes?”

Q's pale skin flushed delightfully and he glanced over at Gregory. “Yes. I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave those just lying about for anyone to find.”

It didn't matter that MI6 already knew everything about them including sexual desires such as these. It mattered if the recordings leaked to bring embarrassment on the service.

Gregory sighed and asked, “Just yours, I trust?”

Q nodded and looked at James, arching an eyebrow at him.

“And two, no one is to watch us in here.” It was a not-so-subtle way of establishing just how far Q trusted him, but that was fine with James.

Q's eyes widened a bit as he took in the words and then he bit his lower lip, clearly thinking things over. He slowly nodded and said, “That is acceptable.”

Gregory looked between them for a moment and then said, “Very well. I shall leave you boys to it then. Enjoy your evening.”

James waited until the door closed behind Gregory before walking closer to Q. He stood mere inches from the young man and said, “Tell me your name isn't actually Ryan. It's so... pedestrian.”

A faint smile twitched across Q's face and he said, “I can neither confirm nor deny such speculation.”

James snorted. “I have only one rule tonight. You are not to orgasm without my permission.”

Q's mouth dropped a little and all James could think about was what uses to put it to. His eyes had shifted from a calm blue to a hazel blue-green, possibly indicating distress but more likely desire and confusion in James' opinion.

James smiled briefly and said, “So. What shall it be tonight? Crop? Whip? Flog? Better still, why don't you tell me why you need to be beaten this evening?”

Q bit his lip and looked away, gaze dropping to the floor.

The mission's failure had not been in any way Q's fault, but he clearly thought otherwise. There was no way James could have that. “Very well. Let me tell you my version of events. Despite a spectacular cock-up with intel that you had no part of gleaning, you brought me home safely.”

“I should have made sure of all intel to do with the mission. Your missions are my priority.”

“You can't do everything, Q.”

“For you, I must.”

James' eyebrow lifted in surprise at hearing it put so baldly. He caught Q's chin and brought it back up, making sure their gazes met. “You _can't_ do everything, not even for me. You're not God, Q, all Big Brother aspirations to the contrary. We have people whose job it is to find intel, to vet sources, and to triple check everything. Someone, likely a number of someones, didn't do their job properly this time and that is not on you.”

Q's face took on a stubborn tilt. “It _is_ on me. You are my responsibility. I am your Quartermaster. It is my job and duty to be sure of your safety and that you have all you need to perform at the highest levels.”

The hell of it was, he wasn't entirely wrong. It did, ultimately, rest upon his slender shoulders. James shook his head and asked, “What is it you geeks say? Garbage in, garbage out? You did the best possible job with the information you had at the time. Information that should have been better vetted.”

Q's jaw tightened and he didn't answer, his hazel eyes meeting James' almost defiantly.

James huffed in amusement. “All right. Here is what will happen tonight. I am going to punish you for your perceived failings until you see things my way. You _are not_ responsible for the mission failing. You _did_ bring me home safely. Once we sort through all of that, we will go to Gregory and fill out a six-month contract and then I'm taking you home. Unless you object to any of that?”

Q's eyes widened at the 'six-month contract' bit and he didn't respond immediately. He licked his lips and asked, “What of work? We aren't allowed to fraternize.”

James smiled and said, “Honestly, I'm guessing there's a pool on when we get together. Had I known just how gorgeous you were under those hideous cardigans and of your delightful need to submit, it would have happened long before now. Work won't be a problem. Trust me.”

Q nodded slowly. “And the terms?”

“Simple. You belong to me. I provide whatever emotional, physical, and financial support you need. You will continue to work, but live in my flat. You will accept my word as law except as it pertains to doing your job to the best of your ability. The Quartermaster Branch is your domain and I will not usurp your authority there. If I feel, however, that you are taking on more than you should – like now – then I will punish you as I see fit to correct you. Is that acceptable?”

Q licked his lips again and nodded.

“Are you clean?”

“I've only ever had safe sex, but had myself tested...”

“I meant, have you recently showered? Are you thoroughly clean or did you not bother, thinking that you would only be beaten?”

Q flushed as he realized what James was asking. He cleared his throat and said, “I, yes. I showered and cleaned myself well.”

“Even your arse?”

His face turned scarlet – which James thought utterly adorable – as Q said, “Yes, even my arse.”

“Safeword?”

“Shakespeare.”

James chuckled. “Limits?”

Q's nose wrinkled and he said, “Not many, but most definitely no urine, scat, or permanent markings or damage.”

“That's it?”

“That's it.”

James eyed him thoughtfully and then walked around behind him. He rested a hand on each of Q's shoulder blades and the young man twitched in surprise, tensing. James massaged up and down the lean, strong back, enjoying the play of muscles under the smooth skin. He spent some time working out the knots he found and smiling every time Q groaned in pain or pleasure. It had been a while since he'd had a vocal lover.

“How many men have you had sex with?”

Q tried to turn and look at him, but James pushed him back against the cross. “Just one in uni.”

Surprised, James asked, “You went to university?”

“Hardly. He was in university. I was sixteen at the time and teaching myself, well, somewhat less savoury lessons.”

“I'm sure. And how long did the relationship last?”

“It didn't. We had sex once and it was... not great... and I never had sex with another man.”

“No sexual contact at all with another man since?”

“I didn't say that. A few handjobs and blowjobs here and there when the mood struck. Always with condoms and never the same man twice.”

“And how many women?”

“Three.”

“Long relationships?”

“No.”

James wasn't surprised by any of that. Q didn't seem the emotionally supportive type. He wanted like hell to get to the bottom of the 'not great' bit, but that would have to wait for a better time. He walked over to the table against the wall and looked over the accoutrements, fingers running over the fine leather of each item. They were all quality workmanship, which was only to be expected at Gregory's establishment.

He picked up the flogger first, testing out the weight of it and lightly slapping his palm as he walked back to Q. James gave no warning. He started right away with enough force to make Q gasp, but not enough to mark; not yet. He used the entire canvas of Q's body from his arse down his thighs and up his back. By the time he stopped, Q's entire backside was a nice, rosy pink and the young man breathed heavily as he dealt with the pain.

James walked around to the front to gauge his tolerance and found no tears and certainly no sign of capitulation. That was fine. He hadn't thought this would be easy. He returned the flogger to the table and picked up the crop, cutting the air with it a few times with his opposite hand. Ambidexterity came in handy with long sessions like this was setting out to be.

Taking up position, James brought the crop down in ten even, heavy-handed blows that immediately rose into red lines across Q's arse. He got a cry out of Q on the last stroke, but didn't bother making anything of it. Q wasn't even close to breaking. James switched back to the flogger and used it to shade the pink over Q's body towards red. Q jerked every time the leather struck one of the crop's marks and he moaned once in obvious pain before biting it back.

James grinned to himself a bit viciously and changed tactics. He leaned in and gently kissed his way down Q's spine.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Q asked with a shaky voice. “You can't, that's not what you're supposed to do.”

James straightened and walked around so he could look Q in the eyes as he said, “You belong to me now. I do whatever I want within your limitations and there's nothing you can do about it.”

Q's eyes widened and he pulled against the bonds. “I take it all back. Stop everything this instant.”

James quirked an eyebrow at him and paused, but the safeword did not make an appearance. He said, “No,” before returning to his place behind Q, who continued to struggle uselessly against the cuffs.

James pressed up against him from knees to chest and Q froze, breath hitching at the contact of fabric against what had to be painful skin. James leaned in and kissed just behind his ear, nosing aside the dark curls with a contented rumble. “You are... delightful. So responsive.”

He nipped sharply at Q's neck before returning to kissing all over the flushed skin. He gripped Q's arse in both hands and squeezed each cheek in a rough marseage while his mouth roamed.

Q at last gave up the fight and rested against the cross, still breathing hard. “Please, don't.”

“Don't what, Q?”

“Don't... be kind. Not to me. I don't deserve it.”

James nodded, knowing they'd finally gotten to the issue. “You deserve what I give you and I want to shower you with pleasure right now.”

With that, he dropped to his knees, leaned in and held open Q's arse to give it a long, slow lick. Q jerked violently with a strangled shout, but James ignored him. He was just as clean and fresh as James knew he would be and delving into that luscious arse was pure pleasure.

“Oh God, oh _God_ , you have to stop. James, I can't, this is utterly mad. You must stop, stop please!”

James did no such thing. In fact, he pushed his tongue in deeper and fucked Q with it until the words became incoherent babbling. James withdrew and he slapped Q's arse hard enough to provoke another cry. Q had sagged against the cross, letting it hold him up. James smirked a bit at the sight and wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand before returning to the table. Time to change things up.

He picked up a paddle – plain, no studs – and walked around front again. “Tell me. Who was responsible for the mission failing?”

Q took a several seconds to respond. His pupils were blown with lust and sweat dampened his dark hair to his head. He was hard and his dick poked out from under center of the cross. His breathing at last calmed and he focused on James. “I am.”

James shook his head and told him, “Many people were responsible. You were not. Garbage in, garbage out, remember?”

Q let out a long, shuddering breath and then said, “The ultimate responsibility was mine.”

James held up the paddle and said, “I'm going to punish you now.”

Q's eyebrows lifted as he gaped at James. “What was all that?”

“A warm-up,” James replied, cold. “When I punish you, you won't get hard from it, believe me.”

Q bit his lip and whispered, “Will you forgive me after?”

James wanted to pull him down from the cross and into his arms, wanted to say he was already forgiven, but knew it wouldn't be heeded. He maintained the cool expression and said, “Yes. Once this is done, you are free of all the guilt and will put this behind us. I won't return to this incident again, is that understood.”

Q nodded eagerly and whispered, “Thank you.”

James nodded shortly and returned to his position behind Q. That someone else might have done this to Q instead of him filled James with anger. It had been a near miss, not ever learning this about Q. “Thirty strokes and then you will have earned my forgiveness.”

“Only thirty?”

James brought the paddle down with ruthless strength and Q immediately shouted in pain. James said, “That's one.”

He maintained only the force of the blows. Varying the speed and location of the paddle kept Q off-guard and that was exactly where James wanted him. He didn't count aloud knowing that it would further disorient Q. It took a solid half-hour to deal out the punishment and, as promised, Q's dick was soft from the pain, not aroused from it. He was also crying openly and shaking with the sobs though he seemed to have lost his voice at some point from the shouting. James tuned out all the noise and concentrated on not breaking Q's delicate skin.

James finished at last and tossed the paddle to the table. He released the ankle cuffs first before standing close to Q and supporting him as he undid the wrist cuffs. Q immediately turned and threw his arms around James' neck, still crying. James bent and scooped Q into his arms to carry him over to the large bed against the far wall. He gently deposited the slender man onto the soft duvet and rolled him onto his stomach.

Aside from the occasional hitched breath, Q had stopped crying by the time James returned from the attached bathroom. He'd gotten a cool, damp flannel and a tube of soothing gel to use on the inflamed skin. James sat on the bed and used the flannel first, wiping Q's face clean from the tears, sweat, and snot. He tossed it to the table as well and then combed his fingers through Q's mass of curls.

He bent down and kissed Q's forehead before saying firmly, “You are forgiven, Q. I know you will do your best in the future to be sure nothing like that ever happens again.”

Q nodded silently and reached out to capture James' hand. He kissed the palm and whispered, “I promise.”

James smiled gently and kissed him on the mouth this time, soft and sweet. “You're a good boy, Q. I'm very proud of you for how you handled your punishment. Now. Let me take care of you.”

Q nodded again, turning his face almost shyly away and James climbed onto the bed. He straddled Q's thighs and picked up the tube, squirting some onto his hand and then rubbing it in a bit to warm it. He carefully massaged the lotion into Q's hot skin using his lightest touch. Q moaned in pain, but didn't fight him. He seemed to relax with every pass of James' hands over his body. A soft snore escaped in only a few minutes and James chuckled, but continued with the after-care. After all Q had been through, James wasn't surprised in the least that he'd fallen asleep.

Once sure that he would remain that way, James hopped off the bed and used the bedside table to call Gregory's office.

“Yes, James?”

“I'd like you to prepare a six-month master-submissive contract for myself and Ryan with all of his limits built in. We will be by in the morning to go through it with you and sign it.”

“Not right now?”

“He's sleeping right now.”

“Ah. Very good then, James. I will see that you are not disturbed. Good night, my boy.”

James smiled at the fond tone and replied, “Good night, you old matchmaker.”

Gregory's chuckle filled his ear before James disconnected the call. He undressed and hung his suit in the closet. Q's clothes were already there. James carefully maneuvered Q under the covers before joining him there dressed only in his pants. Q mumbled as James manhandled him into sleeping on James' chest, but didn't really wake up.

James reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, knowing the overhead would shut off on its own in a few minutes. He kissed the top of Q's head and murmured, “Oh, the things I'm going to do with you,”

The lights went out and James allowed himself to fall asleep with a smile on his face.


	2. Contracts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, Q and Bond go over the details.

Q would be lying if he didn't admit – to himself at least – that he'd entertained fantasies of being sexually involved with James Bond. Detailed fantasies, at that. A few of them had involved a St. Andrew's cross but none of them had involved tenderness and understanding or after-care of any sort. If he continued being honest – to himself at least – Q would have said that Bond was incapable of emoting anything of the sort. He'd been burned so very many times before by people claiming to love him – and probably not all of them were in his file, not that Q had memorized it or anything – that Q had rather assumed there was nothing left to the heart of one James Bond.

That, as it turned out, had been a _completely_ erroneous assumption.

James Bond was a generous, giving lover and had shown himself to be so with not just his physical after-care of Q, but the emotional catharsis he'd wrought. Never before when he'd gone to Gregory's had the efficacy of his session been so immediate nor so complete. As sore and achy as he'd woken up, Q had also felt renewed and at peace. Lying on James' chest with one of those incredibly strong arms around his waist was the most... at home that he'd felt since he was a child.

“You are far too awake for having just woken up. I can feel you thinking.”

Q smiled against James' chest and then looked up to find too-blue eyes staring back at him. “Morning.”

James' smile was a soft thing that Q was 100% sure the rest of the world never saw. “Good morning. How do you feel?”

“Sore, but well.”

James nodded, obviously understanding the dichotomy. “Good. I called Gregory last night and there should be a six-month contract waiting for us at a decent hour. I sincerely doubt that will be before nine, so we should get something to eat. Unless you've changed your mind?”

Q didn't even have to think about it. “I have not.”

James' arms tightened around him, pressing against his sore back and provoking a gasp. He didn't let that stop him, though, rolling them so Q was pressed into the mattress and slipping a leg between Q's. One of James' hands came up to comb through Q's hair and he leaned in to slowly devour Q's mouth. Fingers twisted in Q's hair, little sparks of pain adding to the heaven of being kissed as if the world revolved around him.

James pulled back and stared down at him. “You are... gorgeous.”

Q blinked fuzzily, dazed by the kiss and sensations.

“But we aren't having sex for the first time here. I want to bring you home so I can devour you at my leisure,” James continued with a smile. “Up.”

Q groaned, but slowly obeyed. His body ached right down to the deep tissue; Bond had certainly been thorough, not that he would have expected any less. He hissed in pain when he climbed out of the bed and straightened. James had walked into the bathroom, so Q followed. By the time he arrived, the shower was on and steam had begun to fill the small loo.

James smiled at him and said, “In you go. I'll order breakfast. Yell if you think you're going to fall.”

Q ignored the teasing as he stepped into the shower and moaned as the hot spray pummeled into his aching muscles. It felt incredibly good, bordering on painful, and his muscles relaxed as he stood under the water for several minutes. He finally roused himself into washing his hair with the nondescript shampoo and his body with the neutral body wash. Drying off was a particular form of torture, given the raised welts he'd suffered from the crop, but he would go through worse than that for what he'd received.

He was unsurprised to find a small pill bottle on the counter and poked his head out of the bathroom. “Am I meant to take these?”

Bond looked up from the table that had been brought in and said firmly, “Yes. It's only a mild pain reliever, Gregory doesn't stock anything stronger.”

Q nodded and asked, “May I get dressed?”

James nodded. “Please do. We'll eat and then go to Gregory's for the contract. Some might keep you nude for that, but I'm not one of them. We start this as equals and continue in the same fashion. If you have any other notion, tell me now.”

Flushing a bit from both the pleasure of hearing that and in anticipation of the contract, Q shook his head and said, “That sounds acceptable.”

James huffed in apparent amusement. “Then take your medicine like a good boy and come out to dress and eat. I'm hungry. Worked up an appetite last night, somehow.”

Q gave him a cheeky grin at the backhanded compliment and turned back into the bathroom to take the pills. He washed them down with half a glass of water and then hurried out again to get dressed. It was odd to redress in the same clothes when so much had changed, but he ignored the somewhat squirrely sensation and walked over to the small table. He hesitated and then asked, “Where should I sit?”

James arched an eyebrow. “In the chair, unless specified otherwise. Don't worry, Q. We will go over all the details in Gregory's office. Trust me. He can be... exhaustively thorough.”

Q nodded and set-to with enthusiasm, famished. They ate in a comfortable silence and Q was just as happy not to think about anything for the time being. Excitement hummed through him in a way that it hadn't since first meeting Bond in that museum. Working with him was exciting in a completely different way: stress for the mission; anxiety for Bond's safety; satisfying to pit his intelligence against the enemy, whomever it was at the time; and quite a bit of fun in the banter and flirting between them. If he'd ever thought there'd been something behind that flirting, he might have taken a chance earlier.

_W_ _ell, no. Probably not,_ Q silently acknowledged. His needs were so specialized that even Bond's sophistication hadn't seemed up to the task. It still seemed like a dream that the other man would want to take him on at all, let alone for six months. And then he thought, _Maybe he shouldn't. Surely his downtime should be spent relaxing and recovering from missions instead of dealing with my host of issues. I'll be too clingy, too needy. Oh God, this is an awful idea. I'm no good for him._

“Q.”

Q's eyes met James' and he asked, “Yes?”

“Whatever you're thinking, stop,” James said firmly. “I want you and I want this. Stop over-analysing.”

Q let out a shaky breath. “Right. Yes. Of course.”

James half-smiled and said, “Come here.”

Q hesitated, but stood and then walked around the small table. He let out a surprised noise when James simply tugged him down to sit on his lap and then sat there awkwardly, not sure where to put his arms.

James chuckled and said, “Relax, Q. Hmm. I think you need a nickname.”

Q winced. “Oh God, no.”

Laughing softly, James said, “Oh yes, I think that's something you definitely need. I'll have to think about it, though; it can't be any old thing.”

James cupped the back of his head and brought him in for a sweet, slow kiss that was oddly chaste. Q didn't remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them again, James' gaze was gentle and knowing. Q couldn't take it. He buried his face against James' neck and curled up against him. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and they sat there until the warmth and firm hold relaxed him again.

“Okay, up,” James said, swatting him unexpectedly on the arse. “I'm sure Gregory is waiting impatiently by now.”

It was barely a tap, but enough to get Q moving. He dared to kiss Bond before standing though, ducking away with a small smile.

James chuckled again and then caught his hand, knotting their fingers together. “Boldness suits you.”

Q smiled more fully at that, but didn't reply.

Gregory's office was on the second floor, as were the other business managers and employee offices. Running two extremely popular clubs took a lot of very competent people, Q was sure. They passed plenty of people on the way to the office, but since they could have been there for any reason, there was no need to be secretive about it. He was a bit surprised that James didn't let go of his hand for the walk there, however.

Q hadn't been in Gregory's office since his first visit, but it hadn't changed. It was still military-neat and yet warmly inviting with its leather furniture and soft cushions in the sitting area and overfilled bookshelves.

Gregory looked up at their entrance and stood from behind his desk. “Good morning, boys. You look very well this morning.”

Q couldn't help the flush that surfaced at his teasing words and cursed his fair skin. “Thank you, Gregory.”

The older man motioned them towards the sofas and Q followed where Bond led. _And if that's not a metaphor for our entire relationship, I don't know what is,_ he thought with some amusement.

He'd been following Bond's career since joining the Service and then following him on missions and now following him outside of work as well. It felt... right, in a way that nothing had before. His previous relationships had all fallen far short of the mark and not just because of his particular needs.

James kept hold of his hand when they sat on the larger sofa and Gregory took the overstuffed chair opposite them, a manila folder in his hand. Q scooted close enough to James so that their bodies pressed along the sides, needing more than just his hand. He glance over quickly to make sure that was all right and found an approving smile on the other man's face.

“I have a standard contract here that we'll go through and adjust point by point so that it's geared specifically for the two of you. Overall, it says that outside of work, you, Ryan, will belong to James for a six-month period. He will be responsible for your physical, financial, and emotional well-being.”

“I want a stipulation in there that if I feel he's taking on too much for his own good, I can interfere how I see fit,” James said firmly.

Q interjected quickly, “As long as it doesn't _actually_ interfere with work.”

Gregory snorted. “Oh, you two are going to be delightful this morning, I can just tell.”

The negotiating took a startlingly long time. James seemed to have an opinion on pretty much everything and, of course, Q was hardly a wallflower when it came to opinions. He was surprised by a number of things that James wanted delineated, like: no work or internet on Saturdays when they were both home, that was to be time devoted just for them; one hour of time spent outside the office every day, whether it was cumulative or in one span; and, most surprising of all, monthly visits with Gregory for each of them to discuss how things were going. Q would never have thought of any of that.

It was going on lunch by the time Gregory said, “I'll just ring for some tea and get this sorted for signature. You two relax for a bit.”

James nodded and then said, “Lap.”

Q blushed yet again – the negotiations had been as excruciatingly detailed as Bond had suggested – and carefully settled sideways on his lap. He slouched down a bit to rest his head on James' shoulder, leaning on him fully, and then slowly let out a deep breath. This had been designated as a 'time-out' position where they could just be together without expectations. It was also something Q could use to seek out comfort without verbally asking for it. He marveled a bit that at some point in the future, if he simply wished for a cuddle, he could push Bond on the nearest sofa or chair and climb onto his lap and that's exactly what he would get. To say he was unused to physical affection would be an understatement.

A young woman came into the office with a tea service and did nothing more than smile at them as she asked, “And how do you take your tea, sirs?”

Q didn't especially want to move, but said, “Milk, two sugars, please.”

“Heathen,” Bond teased, kissing his temple. “Black, thank you.”

Q rolled his eyes. “At least I don't drink that swill you call coffee.”

James chuckled and said, “I'll convert you one of these days.”

“Hardly.”

James kissed him again, on the cheek this time, and said, “Up. Drink your tea and have a biscuit.”

That was something else that had surprised him; Bond had specified daily eating parameters. Q knew he was slightly underweight, but it wasn't a serious health issue or even a mental health issue. He simply got too busy and forgot to eat. His assistant at work was now officially supposed to pester him to eat lunch and dinner if he was still at work and he was to actually eat it. He would simply say it was doctor's orders, if anyone asked, which they wouldn't. Mary would be delighted, Q was sure. She'd been pressing food on him since Day One, trying to tempt him with homemade baked goods. Apparently, he reminded her of her youngest son.

Q picked up the least sugary looking biscuit on the plate and nibbled at it while James settled back against the sofa cushion with his tea. “I thought... lunch out?”

James met his gaze and asked, “Stalling?”

Q's eyes widened and he exclaimed, “No! Of course not!”

Sitting upright again, James caught his hand and said, “I was teasing, I know you better than that.”

Q let out a tense breath. “Right. Sorry.”

James kissed the back of his hand. “My fault entirely.”

Q hesitantly sat back against the cushions with James, tea cup in one hand and biscuit in the other. James slide his free arm around Q's waist and held him lightly, a reassuringly solid contact.

“Lunch out sounds like an excellent idea,” James continued. “You can pick the place.”

Q smiled and finished up the small biscuit. “I know a very nice Italian restaurant that had the best antipasto in London. I never have time to get there, so it's been a while.”

“Then that's where we'll go.”

“Not before you each thoroughly read over this contract.”

Q looked over at Gregory as the older man walked back to the sofa with two printouts, one in each hand. He leaned forward to put down his tea in order to take his copy, as did James. He took his time in reading it to make sure that all of their shared points had been included. Other than sexual do's and don't's, Q had only had a few to add, the most important of which was absolutely no interference from James in the performance of his duties.

James had already finished reading by the time Q looked up again and found an intent expression on his face. Q frowned a bit and asked, “What?”

James' expression cleared as he smiled and said, “Still trying to decide on your nickname.”

Q rolled his eyes and said to Gregory, “Everything looks in order. James?”

James nodded and said, “I agree.”

Gregory beamed at them and handed them each pens. They signed and he witnessed the agreement; not that it would hold up in court, but the symbolism was important. “Excellent. Oh, I am so pleased for you both, my boys, truly. I shall email you to schedule your first appointments with me in three weeks. I know you're frequently out of town, James, but don't use that as an excuse not to come. This relationship will take an adjustment on both your parts.”

James smiled and gave a small salute as he stood. “I won't. Scouts' honor.”

Gregory made a disapproving noise. “As if they'd have you.”

James winked and held a hand down to Q, who took it and stood. “We'll see you soon, Gregory.”

Q had the unexpected urge to hug Gregory, but restrained himself to a two-handed clasp as he said quietly, “Thank you.”

Gregory smiled at him and said, “You are quite welcome, my boy. Go on home and make your Master work for a change.”

Q blushed a bit but nodded and followed James out of the office. It was both frightening and not to realize his life had just completely changed in the span of twelve hours and he let out a shaky breath as they exited the club.

James glanced at him as if sensing the mood change. “All right?”

Q thought for a moment and then smiled slowly and answered, “Yes.”


End file.
